Water, it seems, has been doing one thing since the beginning of time. It only has one job. And its coworker, gravity, helps it along it’s path. Evaporate up to the clouds and then the clouds bring it over the mountains and drops it into the valleys and it runs back down into the sea. And that’s it simple. Easy peasy!
I guess I have to try and do the same. Sure we have new technologies that can enable us to do many many things. But I just need to do what I was meant to do.
Follow my flow.
My routine has been go to work, get overloaded by new challenges, and then come home and plop onto the couch. Last night I decided to post a blog after one of many naps. I discovered that my website migration of last year (ish) rendered me with blog posts without photos. Only the post that I have submitted since this move have photos. So I stayed up trying to delete those posts and finally gave up, overwhelmed. At work and at home just plain overwhelmed.
So I changed the theme and called it a night. You might notice past blogs without images … long lost. And so life goes on. As it will when I come up missing.
The “ol quick and dirty” is what I refer to a “outing” that one must do when somehow life has tried to make you forget your an adventurer. After work when you know you must get out and do something. But then it is too late for a real adventure. But you must do something. So you go to that standard “quick and dirty”.
For my partner, and I when I am visiting, it is the Mt Washburn climb. There are two flavors. A real quickie and the “I did not squander the entire day” ride. The real quickie starts when you leave the main grand loop highway in which one parks at that last pullout with the outhouse. It is our opinion that the pullouts with outhouses are the least crowded mostly because people don’t think you “see something” and try to hord in on your “Yellowstone experience”.
In any case Mt Washburn tops out at over 10,000 feet and that is so cool. It even has this long undulating climb that has a 2 mile straight piece that breaks you out of any mental funk. Currently my favorite “quick and dirty”.
One sunny day in Yellowstone National Park Mo and I decided to give hiking a try. After climbing for about an hour I turned to her and said that I feel old. Gravity was just kicking my ass. After not exercising for a little while an exercise like this makes your legs feel like they are petrified.
Let’s examine petrified. Some say petrified wood is only a fossil. Formed by being buried by sediment and then protected from decay by oxygen and little things that would eat it. And then from what I read it gets a little technical. Something like a process where groundwater which has dissolved solids will penetrate and flow through this settlement. In any case this damn s*** turns to rock.
This is what has happened to my legs. A sedimentary lifestyle has turned my legs into sediment. Now turning into rock.
The funny thing is that some specimens of petrified wood are such as accurate preservations that people do not realize that they are fossils until they try to pick it up. Which, they can’t. The damn thing is way too heavy. And me, way too heavy.
So what does a guy do but to find a good place to rest. So I skirt around the hillside a little . And as we sat there and look into the distance were the buffalo roam and the deer play Mo’s face grew excited.
“Isn’t that a petrified tree”, she said and pointed downhill.
Get up put on your pants get your helmet put on your shoes get out the door. Bike through the Haden Valley in mist and dangerous conditions due to tourists not obeying the speed limit. Arriving at the lake I find it icy to say the least.
I finally reach my destination. A trail that for Yellowstone Park is rare. A dirt trail / road that I could ride my bike on. At least that’s what I thought. But today it was closed. Must be lots of their activities.
On my way home I stopped by the Fishing Bridge. Nothing to see here. Kind of a let down. Just a rundown old bridge.
As I turned in looked at the lake to see ice chunks floating on the horizon I realized that I was looking at myself today. Nothing to see here. I kind of feel like a big let down. Just a run-down old biker.
You know what is fun? Just jump on your bike and head on down the road. Then stop at every attraction that you encounter. That is what I did recently in Yellowstone National Park.
It all sounds like a good idea. At the time. But sometimes it just turns out differently.
A new job. A new opportunity. Sounded like a great thing to invest in. and you know what, it may just be too early 2 make the decision that it might have not been a good idea. But until it is I will just make the most of it.
I don’t know what it is but everytime we go out for a ride we always encounter some snow. It is possible that it is my choice of trails. And it is also possible that it is my choice in where I live. But in any case we always encounter snow. It may be too early to detect whether this was a bad idea to be in this place riding my bike. Now I will make the most of it. Time for a snow angel.
When I get done from work as of late I usually just come home and stare at the wall for like 3 hours. Work is hard. Change is hard. the blog surfers. My writing suffers. I mean, my riding suffers, as in riding my bike. Meaning that my last really cool adventurous ride was, well, I can’t remember how long ago.
maybe I need to do this more. As in blogging more. And maybe get caught up in all of the thousands of pictures I’ve taken since then.
So I guess I’ll pull it over and write a blog.
For the bird that “can” fly he actually preferred to get around on land. OK … so he was a little afraid of heights. He preferred dirt. As a teen he damaged his balance faculties so flying was even more scary. Even so, on land, he was the fastest bird around.
Flash forward to a month previous. Life offered the opportunity to live in a better place. Moving across the river to another valley was tough but eventually was able to settle in and happiness started to return. The previous valley just did not match up with his style.
Then opportunity struck again and a new job appeared. Not that grouse have jobs, but his part in the overall scheme of things seems to align and he spent some effort to jump on it. And it was about to happen. And he used all the speed and agility that he had acquired through he years to make it all happen. This old bird still had a couple tricks for sure.
“I want you”, said this opportunity. “You are the most grounded, quite literally, of any bird I know. I mean there are ones that can just fly and are a dime a dozen. But you are balanced … do you want the job?”
“Let me see what my partner thinks”, the grouse said and ran off to their new home to consult with his cohort.
But home was empty. His partner had left … also obtaining a new job as a Interpretive Ranger in nearby Yellow Woods. Her job to tell the birds to stay 25 yards away from the humans. He was happy for her but his new opportunity seemed a little dull now and excitement dwindled. But he had come to far to stop now.
“I’ll take the job”, he told his new boss.
Moving sucks. But I don’t need to say why. Everyone knows why. I feel like I am finally settling in and starting to go out exploring again. Between work and heading to the hospital for tests after tests it has been tough getting unpacked. But now we are settling in and getting out more. Even so, it seems mother nature is a little more behind then we are. And summer is still moving in. Just waiting for winter to move out.
I have full permission to post my partner’s photo at this current time. Thankfully for me she is worn down from packing and probably just doesn’t give a rats ass. So I am grabbing the opportunity and snapping off a shot before she realizes I just posted it.
We are out of here and just finishing the last packing details. Sure it is work but I see it as exciting. It is the beginning of another new journey which is my favorite part. And it gives us a chance to simplify but throwing everything away and starting new. So most of our job today is going around trying to recycle what we have accumulated.
Bozeman Bike Kitchen are acquiring the most stuff. They could probably morph into a full service bike shop after we drop off many boxes full of bikes and stuff. Goodwill will have to open a new wing and the Bozeman Police Department will probably arrest us when we show up with a bag of pharmaceuticals. The Bozeman Public Library will have to clear out some magazine space as well. We haven’t decided how to recycle all the fuel containers and other camping gear.
When the carpet cleaners arrive today we will be out the door to unload our accumulated life onto others, freeing up for our new adventure. Light and agile. Free to start other endeavors which we should come up with over many fire pit evenings in our new back yard.
Continued from our previous post entitled “Scouting Report II“.
I couldn’t breath. I sat there and tried to keep my eyes open. My heart slowed. I was about to die when a message came to me stating that my partner was waiting outside the structure where I work. I stumbled down the stairs and out onto the lawn collapsing. When the fresh oxygen saturated my lungs I started to stir.
“Lets go to our new place … for hope … that this is all worth while.”
“I feel like I want to let myself just die.”
“No, you have to fight, we are almost there. Our escape is in 3 days.”
“OK”
An essential part of surviving life is having a great partner. When the time comes they become our best friend and you can tell them everything. Use their shoulder. And they are there for you. And they keep you going. She saved me. Kept me focused and prompted me to keep striving when I just wanted to give up and die.
We found Aero Cafe just as we left it the last time. Abandon under a grove of trees. I tried the door and it swung open wide. We walked in for the first time. Maybe we should be there. Maybe. But we tried it out … to see if we could claim it as ours.
We spent an hour in and around the structure. No one came. It seems … it could be ours. We left to go back home to pack. It was time. Time we take over this place we found across the valley. We would be there soon. I just had to keep fighting.
Electrodes to the middle of my forehead made me feel like frankenstein. Other electrodes were placed just behind my ear. Then a man showed me a tiny stick that looked as though someone pulled wires apart at the end. Like a medieval paintbrush.
“I am going to insert this into your ear and touch your ear drum with this part”, pointing to the frayed end. “It will feel like some pressure and maybe pain … let me know.”
It was painful but to cry out would mean defeat. I gritted my teeth and held on. Then as electrical energy surged through my head a snapping sound got louder and louder.
Earlier I was isolated in a sound chamber and words were pumped into my ear. Some I understood and some I did not. All in all a grueling morning of tests and torturous challenges.
Gloriously I made it to the end. I endured. Did I win? How did I do? I waited anxiously for the results. Like so many times after a mountain bike race. I have grown accustom to doing well and this time I expected nothing less.
The results came in later last night. And I did not fair well. I thought back to my path and what I could of done better. What were the signs of this failure? How could I do better. I should of never did that “ear drop trick” in my early 20s. I should of ducked every time a caretaker slapped me on the side of the head. Maybe not have used my head to slow a fall off the bike.
The best part of the results are buried deep in history. It confirms a friend should of believed me when I told them I could not climb in exposed situations. Everyone probably thinks it is my excuse when I cant balance as well as they. Or when I explain I cant handle heights. My victory is a I told you so of sorts. I am collecting data to overcome my next opponent. One called Meniere. I’m coming for you buddy.
Yesterday I went into full moving mode and completely filled up the dumpsters. I love moving because thankfully it forces me to downsize and free up my life a little. So it all went … except for the bikes of course.
It did not all go into the dumpster, that is just a figure of speech. But the Goodwill is now fully stocked with high end bike parts and select adventure gear.
So I must get bak to it, time to empty the closets. Then it is off to the U-Haul joint to pick up a truck for the weekend. After that a trip to REI to restock … kidding.
I have been dreaming of riding around the Bridgers but two things are keeping me from doing that this year. One is that we are moving and these next two weeks are wrought will the hells of moving. The other is that I am not sure what is publicly available to ride on. Luckily this weekend I was able to explore and find my way through.
I snuck out Sunday and had 6 hours to do my best to get a handle on the North part of this range. I started out at the North Cottonwood trailhead because riding up there would of taken me over an hour. I only had so much time before I had to go back to packing so I cheated a little.
Plan one was a long shot. To cut across the north on the Blacktail Road. But that hope was diminished by a gate. Which means private I am guessing. There were no signs so maybe I will ask around to see if it is allowed to ride one’s mountain bike on it. So then I headed down the Breamer Creek Road to Maudlow.
Maudlow is a creepy little village with signs that would lead you to believe that you will die if you don’t turn around. I remember them from last year but this year I grew a couple and continued along the 16 Mile Creek Road.
My second hope of going around the bridgers without leaving the range was dashed by another gate. This one even skimpier and without signs. I am sure that I can call someone and get access. I did not chance screwing up future access and stayed on the 16 Mile Creek Road until it was time to turn around and return to my packing duties.
Everything on this trip suggest abandonment and desolation. But to me it was paradise. All alone in empty expanses without anyone in sight. My cup of tea. Maybe this place is a little to far away from Walmart.
Approaching my parked car I could’t help but wish I could ride to town. But I had to get back to packing. It’s move week.
I am sitting in my car waiting for the rain to stop. I can see the edge of the storm rolling over the ridge. There will be sunshine soon. And the conditions at Lewis and Clark Cavern are good after the rain. Sandy and peppily. And this is a good time to ride, before it opens for the season.
I know. I know! Kind of behind the curve. Last one in line so to speak. In my defense I have been riding a fat bike until now. But some bike parts arrived in the mail and got me all excited for my 29er again.
So I got a OneUp 42t cassette cog and a North Shore Billet direct mount chain ring. And a wider bar. And I have to say the system rocks. Some thoughts.
Are you feeling like your forest administration, in which you have named Department of Special interests, is corrupt? Does really really rich people live around your forest blocking you from accessing it? Is there bullets whizzing over your head all the time and every sign full of holes? Are the rentable cabins in your forest ravaged by motor-heads? Is there multiple confusing layers of politics and advocacy making the usage of your forest way to complex? Don’t worry … there are alternatives to the Gallatin. Be thankful … I am.
The Helena forest is only 35 miles to the north. Located in west-central Montana, the Helena National Forest surrounds Montana’s Capital City and offers close to one million acres of distinctive landscapes.
My favorite is the Beaverhead-Deerlodge. The Tobacco Roots are 45 miles away. This largest of the national forests in Montana covers 3.35 million acres, and lies in eight Southwest Montana counties (Granite, Powell, Jefferson, Deer Lodge, Silver Bow, Madison, Gallatin and Beaverhead).
Lewis & Clark is only 47 miles to the North East. Located in central and north central Montana, the Lewis and Clark National Forest is one of ten forests in the Northern Region. The Forest spreads across thirteen counties, seven mountain ranges, and administers an interpretive center in Great Falls. The Forest is characterized by coniferous forests, woody valley bottoms, high mountain peaks and broad grassy meadows. The Bob Marshall and Scapegoat Wildernesses cover almost half of our forest land.
Custer is less then 50 miles away. I feel the most beautiful terrain is here. Spanning across southeastern Montana, the Custer National Forest is abundant with opportunity, known best as one of the most ecologically diverse forests in the Northern Region. The Forest encompasses nearly 1.3 million acres.
Lolo is a long way at 129 miles but for me is like home. The Lolo National Forest is located in west central Montana and encompasses two million acres.
Bitterroot is 135 miles from here. I feel at home here! You will find this spectacular 1.6 million acre forest in southwest Montana and Idaho to be a priceless national heritage. Half of the forest is dedicated to the largest expanse of continuous pristine wilderness in the lower 48 states.
The Flathead is 145 miles away but if you truly want to feel like a explorer this is your place. In the heart of the Rocky Mountains, west of the continental divide and just south of the Canadian border, lies the 2.4 million acre Flathead National Forest. Home to lynx, grizzly bear, and bull trout; with numerous lakes, streams, and rivers to enjoy, the forest is the premiere destination for visitors looking to experience natural landscapes of the American West.
Happy trails …o/o
“Darn!”
“What?”
“I forgot my helmet.”
“Well … be safe”
We pulled up to a old weathered building and I whipped out my camera. The adventure must roll on.Today’s plan was to explore the dirt roads on the West side of the Tobacco Roots. Expanding upon what we already discovered last year. I was still nervous about not having a helmet. I was only going to be on old dirt roads. I mean … if I got hit by a speeding farm truck would a helmet really save me anyway? I think not.
Soon I found myself way out front on a sunny day heading towards snow capped peaks. I totally forgot I was not wearing a helmet and my anxiety dissipated. At one point I decided to wait up for my partner and was caught napping.
Awakened I bolted to my bike and up the climb I went. Didn’t even think about that helmet the rest of the day. In all I put in 30+ miles on my fat bike. And eventually had to turn around because of the snow. Yea, even though I was on a fat bike.
Numerous times I climbed and re-climbed the hills to point the fatty downhill and let it fly. The fat bike makes it all so comfy and safe feeling. And boy does it scream down a hill. I was “told” that maybe I should be careful. Because I was not wearing a helmet. Oops!
Just goes to show that it is good to not worry the small details in life as long as you don’t forget your sometimes creaming down a hill at 45 without a helmet.
Hump-day, As we are all aware of means we made it through half the week. Now that is a accomplishment. So far the usual … kind of behind and trying to get caught up. Thankfully we are half way there.
Today I become a bachelor as my partner is on the road outta Montana. Going to spend time in the desert looking for faces and what not. We spent the better part of the last couple days spending time with each other. I call it “last supper”. For me, now, it is laying on the couch getting caught up with all the You Tube / Red Bull TV mountain biking videos. Laying here wishing I was out there. Realizing I could be out there. But too lazy to do it. I know I will set a mileage goal.
Starting tomorrow I will commit to riding a certain amount of miles. I need the motivation. I am one day closer to death and I better get in the miles before I cant. Plus now I have all the alone time in the world. Bike pouting season as you will.
Boneshakerbike 